


i'm scared to live but i'm scared to die

by futurefishes



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Lots of Angst, M/M, Post-Canon, Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human), Suicidal Thoughts, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-15
Updated: 2019-03-12
Packaged: 2019-08-24 02:38:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16631261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/futurefishes/pseuds/futurefishes
Summary: "What Connor wanted the most, was to see Hank safe and happy.Even if that meant that Connor couldn’t stay."(the number of death threats directed at hank anderson is quickly increasing. connor is worried)





	1. chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> finally, i managed to write a hannor fic!! i've been wanting to ever since i finished the game, but my creativity has failed me.
> 
> until i got the idea for this.
> 
> uh i have no idea how the police work either so i'm sorry in advance and also there might be a lot of grammar errors and typos and i'm sorry in advance (2)

About two weeks after the revolution, the first death threat arrives in the post box belonging to the Detroit Police Department.

Fowler scowls at the letter in his hands, as he tells Hank and Connor about it. “Although we doubt they will act upon their words, it’s for the best that we’ll be more cautious around our surroundings and what we tell the people around us.”

Hank grunts next to Connor. “Fucking hell, we should just ignore it.”

'It' being the letter that had been sent to the Detroit Police Department’s post office sometime during the early hours of this morning. It included a message, directed at Hank, that told him to stop working alongside “a fucking piece of plastic” ( _ directly quoted _ ), or else he would not live to see 2039.

Connor had felt what humans called “his heart drop” as he read through the letter that currently was in Fowler’s grasp. He had tried to scan it, looking for anything that might lead them to the culprit, but he found no fingerprints; meaning that it either had been sent by an android or the culprit had been smart enough to wear gloves.

He was frustrated, to say the least; not only was the culprit, who may or may not make truth of his words, still out there, but it was also directed to Hank; Connor’s friend and partner. Just the mere thought of Hank getting injured or even worse, killed, made him feel frightened beyond belief.

While the emotions that he now felt were something that he was thankful for, they were also  _ incredibly exhausting _ . How could humans live like this, experiencing so much, all the time? There was no way to stop them, no push of a button. 

Connor still had to learn how to live with them. It had only been about two weeks since he deviated, after all.

“We shouldn’t ignore it, lieutenant,” Connor voices ,and he feels how Fowler’s and Hank’s gaze turns towards him. “There’s a 26% chance that they will, indeed, follow through with their words.”

“This isn’t the first time I’ve gotten a death threat, Connor,” Hank voices. He sighs. “And so far, the one who has been closest to killing me hasn’t been any of them.”

“But-” Connor starts to argue, but Fowler interrupts him.

“Look, Connor. I know you want what’s best for Lieutenant Anderson, just like everyone else,” Hank mutters something that sounds like ‘bullshit’ under his breath, but Fowler ignores it. “But you have only been spent about a total of three weeks on the force. The threats used to be an almost weekly thing back when Anderson worked with the Red Ice Task Force. He’s still breathing.”

Fowler pauses to look between the two. “Now that we’ve gone through that, and you understand the reason I called you in here, get out of my office. And be more cautious out on the field. Wouldn't want to be two men down.”

“Of course, chief,” Hank says as he walks out of the room. Connor sends a nod toward Fowler, whose gaze is back on his computer screen, before he follows his partner out of the door.

Hank is back at his desk when Connor stops next to him. He's working on the files of one of their newest cases as if nothing happened. As if he didn't just hear that someone threatened to take his life.

“Can I ask you a personal question, Lieutenant?” Connor says, as he sits down onto Hank’s desk.

“Shoot.”

“Aren’t you worried about the threats?” Connor questions. Hank’s gaze doesn’t falter from the computer screen.

“No. As Fowler mentioned, I used to get tons back in the day. Those fuckers never did anything, all of it is pretty much empty words,” Hank replies. His hands are still typing away on his keyboard, the word count on the document slowly rising. “They are also too lazy to keep it up for very long; they get bored and stop sending them. It’s too much work for them. This will blow over soon.”

Hank turns around to send a small smile Connor’s way, a smile that’s supposed to be reassuring, but it doesn’t manage to ease the worry inside of him.

Connor only looks as Hank turns back to the computer, once again focused on the file in front of him. Connor can feel how the LED on the side of his head spins yellow, before it calms into a cool blue as he comes to a decision;

He should trust Hank. He's right.

This will probably be over in a matter of days.

\- x -

Except, it doesn’t stop. Instead, the number of letters keep increasing. The following week, the death threats have tripled up in numbers. And there are more waiting in the post box. All directed at Lieutenant Hank Anderson.

( _ “I’ll kill you”, “I’ll shot you straight through your brain” and “I’ll slit your throat” are all phrases that appear, and Connor sees how his stress level reach 63% as he reads the awful sentences _ ).

All of them mention Connor’s presence as Hank’s partner as one of the reasons the letters exists. All of them mention that he should stop before it’s too late, that Hank should bury a bullet in Connor’s brain to save his own life.

Hank just ignores them all, despite the increasing number of letters that ends up in the precinct and despite the anxiety that grows stronger inside of Connor. Hank gives him a small smile, squeezes his shoulder and tells him that he shouldn’t worry. Connor tries to follow his directive, but he still feels his mind spinning.

When they’re at crime scenes, Connor can’t help but analyze the environment more than usual. Where can they escape if the person behind the letters show up? Is there a place where he can hide to ambush them? How far is it to the closest hospital?

Most of the crime scenes they get sent out to shows them the horrible end that some androids meet. Almost all of the victims had been beaten or stabbed to death, and some had had their thirium pump dragged out of them. Connor clearly remembers a female android, whose head had been decapitated. He remembered looking down at her and the grizzly scene, feeling the terror build up inside him.

Of course he knew that the revolution wouldn’t change things overnight. Of course he knew it would take time. And he supposes that the increase in crimes against androids was to be expected.

But it’s one thing to expect and another thing to see. It’s one thing to stand here as a machine and another to stand here as a deviant. Three weeks ago, before he deviated, this sight wouldn’t have bothered him - he saw the others like machines, after all. Machines that could be replaced as many times as they needed to be. There was no real emotion behind their deaths.

Now though, now it’s  _ different _ . Because he knows that they’re alive, he knows that they feel the same things as everyone else. They finally have their freedom and their rights, only to have them ripped away from them in the worst way possible.

What makes matters worse is the fact that the killer hasn’t left any traces behind. No murder weapon, no blood stains, no fingerprints, nothing. It’s frustrating.

“This is so fucking cruel,” Hank suddenly voices from beside him, as he comes to stand next to Connor in the dark bedroom. It smells of thirium. His gaze as he looks down onto the scene in front of them - two children androids as well as a man android are lying lifeless on the ground, their thirium pumps smashed to pieces and their bodies mutilated - is hard. It’s almost as if he’s radiating anger. “Who the  _ fuck  _ decides to mess with family? This is so wrong.”

“It is,” Connor agrees, his voice low. “And whoever did it didn’t leave any traces behind. They knew what they were doing. The victims probably never had a chance.”

They probably never had a chance to fight back from the sudden violence that was aimed at them, probably never had a chance to escape. They lost their life to extreme violence.  _ Violence, violence, violence _ . Speaking of violence, the letters spoke of it as well. Of violence. Of killing. Of Hank.

What if it had been Hank? What if Hank had been the one lying on the floor in a pool of his own blood? What if it had been too late to save him too? What if Connor lost him?

The thought makes him terrified, it makes him paralyzed. All he wants to do is scream, because of the awful way in which the victims died, with no way to defend themselves. And he wants to scream because the mental images of Hank being the victim of a crime scene makes Connor feel like dying, he shouldn’t feel like dying, but living without Hank is pointless,  _ I don’t want to _ -

A sudden touch on his hand makes Connor’s eyes leave the scene in front of him, to trail down to his arm. Hank’s holding his hand, intertwining their fingers. Connor’s thirium pump starts beating much faster.

“Connor, you’re trembling,” Hank says and Connor realizes that he  _ is. _ How couldn’t he have noticed? He’s shaking. “Let’s go back to the station. There’s nothing more we can do here anyway.”

Connor finds himself nodding, his words failing him. The fear is still so very real and raw and  _ awful _ that he doesn’t know what to say.

Hank squeezes Connor’s hand as they walk out of the building, towards Hank’s car. It feels amazing to step out of the house, to step away from the smell of thirium and the sight of precious people lost.

The fear slowly leaves him, the further away from the crime scene they get.

“Hank,” Connor almost whispers. Hank hums to indicate that he’s listening, still pulling Connor towards his car. “Please don’t leave.”

They keep walking. Another squeeze to Connor’s hand. He doesn’t see Hank’s smile, but he hears it.

“I won’t, Con, I promise.”

\- x -

“I have a suggestion, Hank.”

Hank, whose attention had been on the cop-movie playing on the television ( _ “they’re so inaccurate that it’s hilarious to watch,” he had explained for Connor a few days ago, while deep in laughter _ ), turns around to look at him. “And that is?”

“That I’ll take up the space on the bed next to you this evening,” Connor voices, and he watches as Hank freezes at his words. Connor takes the chance to continue talking, before Hank decides to tell him to shut up. “That way, I’ll be able to make sure that you will be safe in case of an ambush in the middle of the night.

“Jesus, Connor,” Hank exclaims, and he turns his gaze back to the movie. His heart is beating slightly faster than before, and if Connor isn’t mistaking, he can see blush spreading on Hank’s face. “I told you, they’re too much of fucking cowards to do anything. Don’t worry.”

“But I do,” Connor voices, and his voice somehow sounds rawer than usual. It earns him Hank’s gaze back on him. He feels a fluttery feeling in his chest when their eyes meet, the same feeling he usually feels when he thinks about the lieutenant. It makes him feel warm inside. “And I would like to know for sure that you’re safe. Please.”

The thought had popped into his head as they were in the car earlier today, heading back to the station from the crime scene earlier. Connor’s hand had still tingled from when Hank held it, and as he kept staring at it, and the artificial skin it was covered with, he plays with the thought in his mind. He was a prototype android after all, designed by CyberLife to destroy all deviants. He had all the newest techniques and equipment to be able to take down an android. He had used his resources to take down many enemies before.

Maybe he could also use this to protect Hank against any dangers, at all times? Even when Hank was asleep?

His thirium pump had experienced a few errors when Connor thought about how it would feel like to sleep curled up against the lieutenant, but that isn't the point.

There’s is a moment of silence, in which Hank just stares at him; Connor supposes that he tries to analyze him, to find his true intentions. But he wouldn’t be able to find anything different than what Connor already had said. He was worried. And he feel like the feeling would calm down if he would get to be close to him.

“Fine,” Hank mutters, taking another sip of the beer can he's holding on to. “But you’ll have to fight with Sumo for the spot.”

The dog looks up at them and whines at the mention of his name. Connor smiles at him, and reaches down to pet his soft fur.

He would not let Sumo claim the spot on the bed, not tonight. And  _ no,  _ his big puppy eyes won’t work this time.

“Thank you, Hank.”

“Don’t mention it,” Hank mumbles, turning away to face the television again. Connor can see that his pulse is still higher than usual, and he can also see that his body temperature is a degree higher than usual.

That might be why his cheeks are slightly pink.

They spend the rest of the time on the couch in silence, the movie rolling on in front of their eyes. Connor can’t find himself paying attention to the movie ( _ he already spoiled the ending for himself by searching it up, hoping that the ending would be at least slightly original. He was disappointed _ ). All he can think about is the fluttery feeling growing deep down in his stomach, growing stronger the more he thinks about sleeping next to Hank.

“Let’s go to bed,” Hank voices as the end credits roll down the screen, and all Connor can do is nod. Hank nods as well, before he looks almost… flustered? It makes the butterflies in Connor’s stomach multiply. “Uh, I’ll need to take a piss. You can go to the bedroom, I guess.”

So that’s what he does. He ends up standing next to the bed though, unsure of what action he should follow up the command with. He has been in Hank’s bedroom multiple times before, grabbing clothes for Hank after he showered or waking him up in the morning, but this is the first time Connor actually will get to sleep in the bed: he had told Hank that he didn’t need to sleep, and had therefore never done so. He had spent the nights researching various subjects ( _ recent searches included: the matrix, vines, love _ ) or watching different movies that Hank had mentioned. Most of the time, he just found them stupid, but it was a nice way to spend time.

Which side of the bed was Hank’s? Looking by the way the sheets were slightly more wrinkled on the left side, he guesses that’s the one. The other side has 37% more dog hairs on it, meaning that that’s the side Sumo usually takes up.

The side that Connor will sleep on now.

Connor hears Hank flush the toilet, and before long he sees him exit the bathroom. He’s changed into more comfortable clothes - the t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants that he usually wears to bed - and he ends up standing in the doorway, looking at Connor.

“You gonna change or what?”

Connor blinks. “I do, unfortunately, not own any other attire than the CyberLife uniform.”

“God, the fuckers didn’t even give you extra clothes?” Hank mutters, but there’s a slight twitch of the lips, that tells Connor that he’s more amused than anything. Hank pushes off of the wall and walks towards his closet. He grabs at something; a hoodie ( _ 100% wool, made in America _ ) is soon thrown at Connor, and he catches it in his hands. “Try this.”

“You sure?” Connor asks, just to be certain. He doesn’t know if he should remind Hank that he can sleep in his uniform, really, there’s no problem.

Hank’s quick with giving him the answer though. “Yes. You’re supposed to be relaxed when you’re sleeping, and I don’t know about you, but your uniform stresses me out.”

Connor finds himself  _ pouting _ , against his better judgement. He doesn't want to be the reason for Hank's stress level rising. He notes that Hank's heartbeat increased by 5BPM though. He doesn't really know what that is about. “You get stressed out by my  _ clothes _ ?”

“Well, they do have the logo from CyberLife on them, and considering what they did to you up on that stage…” Hank, refering to the moment when Cyberlife almost made Connor turn his gun on Marcus, trails off. He preys his gaze away, eyes looking down at the floor, away from Connors analytic gaze. “We should get you some new clothes.”

Connor hums in agreement, and moves his hands to the tie around his neck. As he started to untie it, he could feel Hank’s gaze on him. It makes his thirium pump beat quicker, to the point that a warning pops up in front of his vision. He hurriedly clicks it down, as he lays his tie down onto the bureau in Hank’s bedroom.

As he moves on to take off his dress shirt, he hears Hank cough from behind him. He doesn't look up at him, instead focusing on unbuttoning the shirt. He could see the vitals from Hank pop up in front of his vision, indicating that his heartbeat was rising again, along with his body temperature. The weight of Hank’s gaze is gone, and he can hear the sound of the bed as Hank makes himself comfortable in it.

The hoodie is slightly too big on him, the end reaching to the middle of his thighs. But it’s soft, and it’s definitely much different from his uniform. This is  _ definitely  _ a piece of clothing that you can sleep soundly in.

It also smells like Hank, which is a big plus. 

Once he has adored the way the hoodie falls on his frame enough, he turns around and heads over to the bed. Just as Connor had predicted earlier, Hank is lying down on the left side of the bed. The blanket is covering him all the way up to his neck, and his attention is on the phone in his hands.

He hesitates for only a few seconds, before he starts to climb into the bed. He feels the mattress sink under his weight, but it’s soft. Just like the hoodie.

Connor understands why some humans spend a lot of time in their beds.

“Are you going to sleep?” Hank voices, as Connor makes himself comfortable under the blanket. Hank hasn’t looked at him since he changed, his eyes still attached to his smart phone. “Or are you going to watch me sleep the entire night?”

“I was thinking of activating my sleep mode. But I'm going to turn on the light sleeper setting, so I should be able to wake up fairly quick if something does happen,” Connor motivates, and Hank hums in reply.

“Okay,” Hank says, and he shuts off his phone and lays it down on the nightstand. “Goodnight then, Connor.”

Hank turns around to sleep on his side, with his back turned towards Connor. His heartbeat is still fairly quick, quicker than his resting state. Connor finds that he wouldn’t mind if it’s because of him.

“Good night, Hank,” he says softly, as he stares up at the ceiling.

Connor’s mind is running a million miles a minute as he waits for Hank to fall asleep next to him. He thinks about the death threats; the fact that someone wants to hurt Hank makes him furious. It makes him want to go out in the night and find the one behind the harsh words. It makes him want to find them so he can beat some sense into their brain.

But it also hurts a lot, in so many ways. According to the letters and the threats, the reason behind the promised violent acts was because Hank was working alongside Connor. They encouraged Hank to shoot Connor, to end his life, to save his own.

Maybe that would be better; if Hank did shoot Connor? Did end his life?

Connor doesn’t want to die, but he would rather die than see Hank do so. Despite being a deviant for almost three weeks now, he still doesn’t know what he’s really doing; ever since the revolution, when he went against Cyberlife and Amanda’s orders, he has been living without a real goal.

He used to be a machine, designed to accomplish a task; to hunt down all the deviants.

He wasn’t supposed to turn deviant, but he did.

The time after he deviated had been tough; Hank had offered for Connor to stay at his place almost immediately, something that he always would be thankful for. He didn’t get to return to the force immediately, Fowler telling them that they had to wait out the president’s orders. So he had spent the first week after the revolution cleaning up Hank’s house ( _ according to him, it hadn’t been that clean for years _ ), taking Sumo on walks and watching television. He learned a lot about humans, like that they liked terrible slap-stick comedy shows on television, and that humans tend to start wars because everyone wants to rule the world.

He also learned a lot about Hank; like that he loves old movies, that he sings when he showers and that he is a great cook when he tries. Hank is truly intelligent, more so than Connor first thought when he met him, and they had had various long conversations about historic events; nine eleven, natural disasters and facebook. Of course, Connor could’ve looked the info about them all up himself, but he found that he liked listening to Hank’s voice. It made him feel calm and safe and warm.

Connor clearly remembers the day he understood that he was in love with Lieutenant Hank Anderson. It had been during his first week as a deviant, the week before he could go back to the DPD.  Hank had gotten home after a long day at the precinct, low on energy, and Hank sat down on the sofa the first thing he did, while Connor offered to make dinner. As Connor a few minutes later walked out of the kitchen and into the living room to tell Hank that dinner was ready, he had found himself stopping.

Hank had been snuggling into Sumo’s soft fur, a small smile on his lips. The scene looked so warm and full of love, that Connor had felt himself melt. His chest felt warm, and he felt like he was full of positive emotions, all because of Hank.

It was scary, being in love. Hank probably hadn’t thought about being with Connor in the way that Connor longed for, but that didn’t matter. Just being next to him was fine. Just being with him was fine.

As long as Connor got to stay by Hank’s side, he was happy.

Maybe that’s why Connor is so terrified and worried about the death threats, despite being told from both Hank and Fowler that he shouldn’t worry. He doesn’t want to lose Hank. He wants to be close to Hank for as long as he can.

Connor can hear the soft humming from his LED, as it probably spins red. He starts a program to calm his thirium pump down, and soon enough, it changes into a calm blue.

Hank is asleep next to him, his soft exhales the only sound in the room. The moonlight is shining through the window, making Hank’s figure glow.

Although he can’t see Hank’s face, Connor knows that he’s just as beautiful as usual.

He moves closer, careful as to not wake him up. He lets one of his arms rest lightly over Hank’s waist. The warmth from Hank’s body is comforting.

Connor closes his eyes, and activates his sleep mode.

Time to get away from all the thoughts through his head. For the next 7 hours and 30 minutes, to be exact.

\- x -

Hank doesn’t mention the fact that Connor is wrapped around his side when he wakes up the morning after. He doesn’t say anything when Connor moves closer to him when they go to bed the following evening either. If Connor wasn’t mistaking, Hank actually leans into the touch.

Connor tries to hide the smile on his lips when he notices, but it’s useless. His grin is too big anyway.

Sleeping next to each other quickly turns into a habit; Connor still uses the excuse of wanting to make sure Hank won’t be attacked during the evening, and Hank still accepts it.

So far, there hasn’t been any attacks during the night; both Connor and Hank has slept well the past few nights, lying close enough for them to share their warmth with one another.

But the situation is quickly turning more serious at work; they’re slowly getting more clues from the crime scenes they are visiting. It soon becomes quite obvious that the victims share the same culprit; the way they find the bodies of the smashed androids are very similar. The crime scenes look almost the same as well; furniture has been smashed into pieces and anything of value stolen. Windows are smashed, and have been acting as an entryway into the houses or apartments in which the victims were found.

It’s on the third crime scene of the week that they finally get a lead; blood stains on the floor, next to pools of blue blood. It seems that the androids had put up a fight. From analyzing the broken window, to the places where the red blood has been splattered, Connor can replay the events in his head.

The culprit had broken the window and climbed in, immediately attacking one of the androids. The culprit was however not aware of the second android, the one that couldn’t be seen from where he had been standing outside the window, and was therefore surprised when he was attacked from behind with a knife. As he had reached up to touch the wound he had in his shoulder, the first android had tried to fend him off as well; but their fight wasn’t enough. The culprit would manage to hit the android in front of him in the head and kick it so hard in the stomach that the plastic fell off, revealing the thirium pump underneath. While fending off the android that had sneaked up on him, the culprit ripped out the thirium pump from the injured android, ending it’s life.

The fight with the remaining android had been violent; they pushed each other into walls, and they both got quite a few hits on each other - but it was soon over as the culprit found a broken bottle on the floor, using it to cut up the android’s face. The android had fallen down onto the floor, where the culprit ended up beating her to death.

It was a gruesome scene, and it must have shown on his face; Hank sends him a look full of concern.

“You alright, Con?”

“Yeah,” Connor finds himself replying, although he really isn’t; not when it comes to the violent way the androids had met their fate or the letters addressed to Hank that still frustrated him to the end. He didn’t want to worry Hank more than what was necessary. “But it was violent before they…”

“Yeah, I figured,” Hank sighs, and looks around the crime scene. His eyes are downcast, and although he has worked in the force for so long now, some crime scenes still makes him feel shaken to the bone. “This is fucking awful. The person behind this must be incredibly fucked up."

Connor doesn’t reply, words failing him. Despite having the entire dictionary in his head, he can’t find any words to describe just how awful the culprit must be to have done something like this.

He moves over to the red stains of blood on the floor, trying to ignore the pool of thirium next to it, despite the nauseous feeling that blows up inside of him. He reaches his finger down and sticks it in the red liquid before he pops it into his mouth.

“We may be friends now, Con. But that’s still so fucking  _ disgusting _ ,” Hank grumbles somewhere in the background. Connor ignores him, too focused on the information that pops up in his vision to care.

Their culprit is a human named Matt Williams, aged 27. He is unemployed and his earlier crime records include domestic abuse, drunk driving, forfeit and assault.

“His name is Matt Williams,” Connor says and turns around to face Hank. “He’s from the area, and he has committed crimes before, including assault and domestic abuse.”

“The fucker,” Hank mumbles under his breath. “But we have a name now. A suspect. That’s good. Finally a fucking breakthrough, thought I was going insane for a while there.”

“You aren’t,” Connor replies, and he feels a smile grow on his face. “And even if you were, I would be here to keep you sane.”

Connor registers the way Hank’s heart skips a beat automatically. The look on Hank’s face is one of embarrassment and something more that Connor can’t decipher. Hank turns his face away before he can get a closer look.

“Good,” Hank replies, before a moment of silence. “We should get back to the station now. Look through the evidence we have and let the guys here do their job.”

The crime scene technicians go around the crime scene, doing their best as to not touch anything or move anything, as to not disturb the place. They take photos of the body and all of the evidence they can find, the flashes from their cameras making the entire room light up.

“Yes, let’s go,” Connor agrees, sending a last glance over at the crime scene technicians, before he follows Hank out the door.

\- x -

When they reach the precinct, they don’t get to review their evidence.

Instead, they are called into Fowler’s office for an emergency meeting. Although Hank grumbles in the beginning, he shuts up when he sees Gavin sitting in one of the chairs.

Gavin looks  _ awful. _ His eyes are swollen, and his lip is bruised. The clothes he’s wearing has multiple rips and holes in them, as if someone has tried ripping them apart. He has his own blood smeared across his face and arms, and it’s still dripping from a wound on his head.

“Gavin was assaulted outside of the station, just a few moments ago.” Fowler tells them, and Connor sees from his peripheral vision how Hank’s jaw falls open. “He took a hell of a beating, so we should be glad that he’s still breathing’.”

Connor knows that Fowler is right; the amount of blood Gavin has lost is just under critical levels. If the assault hadn't been stopped when it was, the wound in his head would've killed him.

“Did you catch the culprit?” Hank questions, but he seems to know the answer by the disappointed look that makes itself known on Fowler’s face.

“No. The moment Ben and Linda pulled in with their car, he fled,” Fowler replies with a sigh.

“Damn,” Hank said under his breath, more for himself than anything.

“But he's forgetting the most important thing,” Gavin speaks up, apparently tired of keeping quiet. He looks at Hank with a gaze that isn't full of his usual aggressiveness that he directs to the both of them. Instead, Gavin seems exhausted, and Connor can't help but feel for him, despite the nature of their relationship thus far. “Which is the fact that he attacked me because you still are working with this piece of fucking plastic!”

The room goes quiet the moment the words pour out of Gavins mouth. And it doesn't stop there.

“The asshole said that he warned us all. He sent the letters to the department. He said we knew the requirements. And they weren't met,” Gavins voice is getting louder with each word that passes through his lips. “So he tried to kill me. Said it's our final warning. Drop the android or Hank's next.”

Connor wants to cry; he can't help but hate the way he gets a lump in his throat and the way the tears press against the back of his eyes.

“I'm not leaving Connor,” Hank says suddenly, his voice the most determined Connor ever has heard it. “If you think I'm going to abandon someone because of something a fucking maniac said, you're wrong.”

“You're the fucking maniac, Hank!” Gavin shouts back, blood slipping out of his mouth along with the words. “You're going to get us all killed and for what?! Just so you can continue fucking a machine?!”

“He's not a machine!” Hank growls, starting to move closer to Gavin. Connor puts a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

“That's enough,” Fowler says loudly, making the remaining three stop and look at him. Connor’s hand drops from Hank’s shoulder, and he tries to ignore how much his fingers tingle. “I'm not letting any of you go. I can't risk to lose you. And with that said, I'm taking you both off the case.”

The finger Fowler points towards Hank and Connor feels like a stab to the back. They had gotten so far, they had the bastard's name! - they could catch him!

Hank was just about to say the same thing, but Fowler beats him to it.

“And I'm sending you both on temporary leave. Until things calm down.”

“But lieutenant-” Connor tries.

“It’s an order,” Fowler says sternly, before he sighs. “I know you want to solve this case, but we want you both to stay alive.”

“I-,” Connor tries once more, but this time a hand falls on his shoulder. He looks over his shoulder to see Hank, his eyes downcast. He just points to the door.

“He said it’s an order,” Hank says clear enough for them all to hear. “Let’s go.”

Hank starts to walk out of the room, and Connor finds himself hesitating. Just as he decides to follow after his partner, he can hear Gavin mumble from behind him.

“That must be the first time  _ ever  _ I’ve seen him follow an order that easily,” Connor can pretty much hear the smirk in Gavin’s voice. “He should be in love more often.”

\- x -

Hank’s already in the car when Connor catches up to him, and he slips in without saying a word. Hank is staring straight forward, onto the wall across from the parking lot.

Connor’s eyes widen when he figures out  _ why  _ Hank is staring at it.

The blood stains are a vibrant red against the cool grey concrete. Connor’s head is spinning.

That’s where Gavin got attacked. That’s the spot where Gavin would have died if Linda and Ben hadn’t gotten back to the parking lot when they did. Gavin, who got attacked and almost lost his life because they didn’t follow the orders in the letter.

The orders that told them to get rid of Connor.

Connor was afraid this would happen; he was afraid that the people around him would get hurt because of his presence. It’s already gone too far.

This needs to stop.

“Hank,” Connor begins as Hank finally starts the engine of his car. “Maybe, it’s time for me to leave the force. It seems like my presence only causes problems.”

Hank doesn’t even look at him, too focused on reversing out of the parking spot, but his voice is stern. “Absolutely not.”

“I insist, Lieutenant,” Connor starts again. “You would be much safer without me by your side.”

“Shut the fuck up, Connor,” Hank growls, but as usual, Connor doesn’t listen.

“This wouldn’t have happened if I wasn’t your partner,” Connor replies, his voice louder than before. Hank throws him an angry look, but Connor decides to ignore it. “You’d be much better off without me, Hank.

“Shut up!” Hank yells, and the surprise in Connor makes him lose his words. “You are just as much of a person as the rest of us, Connor. No fucking letter is going to change that. We're not letting you go.”

Connor only looks at Hank, recognizing the signs of frustration on his face. It seems that both of them are frustrated, although it seems to be directed at different points of the problem.

“Gavin could've been killed! Who knows whose next? What if it's you, Hank?” Connor can feel himself close to snapping,  _ because why doesn't Hank get it?! _

“What if it's you that's next, Connor?” Hank questions back.  “Don't think that I'm not worried either! I'm just as fucking worried as everyone else.”

“If it was me next, it would be fine!” Connor finds himself replying. He's surprised at how steady his voice sounds, despite the fear that's building inside him at the thought. He doesn't want to die. He wants to be with Hank. But the words he's speaking are the truth; the only requirement to stop all of this was to get rid of Connor in one way or another. If he was the next victim, the rest would be safe.

Hank goes oddly quiet at his words though, and Connor notices how the lieutenant’s heartbeat picks up again. His face is full of shock and something that looks a lot like sadness.

“If that's really what you think, you must be really fucking dumb,” Hank says after a while, his voice quiet. He doesn't turn around to look at Connor anymore, just staring out at the long winding road in front of them. The atmosphere turns thick and awkward, and the air of finality that suddenly is around them tells Connor that the conversation is over.

As the sun goes down over Detroit, the pair spends the rest of the car ride in silence.

\- x -

They don’t sleep together that night.

The moment they stepped inside the door to the house, Hank greeted Sumo with a few pets before he made his way to the bedroom, locking the door behind him.

It's been a while since Hank has shown a behavior like this; it hasn't happened ever since Connor moved into the small house. So he can't help but worry.

It feels weird, spending the night researching and watching television again. It feels lonely, when he doesn’t get to spend the night lying next to Hank. He had since long gotten used to the warmth that Hank radiated, and the feeling of his hand around Connor’s waist, pulling him closer. It had made his mind think about Hank, Hank, Hank and his arms around him, nothing else.

Now his mind is spinning, and his soul is aching.

Was it wrong for Connor to say that things would be fine if he was the next victim? Hank seemed to believe so. But it was true, wasn’t it? The person behind the letters wanted him gone, and promised to leave the rest of the department alone if he were to disappear.

Besides, it’s not like Connor even  _ deserves  _ to live. He was against the deviants, his own people, only mere weeks ago. He was their enemy, determined to be the one who would erase their existence. Although he knew that Markus and his friends had forgiven him, there were still deviants out there who wanted nothing more than to see him shut down.

But what about Hank? Ever since he became a deviant, Hank has been his  _ home _ . It’s weird - can someone even be called a home, by definition?

But there is no other way to explain it; part of why he managed to deviate was because of Hank. He was his first true friend, someone he could tell everything to and someone he never wanted to leave.

Although he  _ would  _ if Hank told him to. If Hank ever got enough of him and told him to walk out of the door, Connor would do so.

Because what he wanted the most, was to see Hank safe and happy.

Even if that meant that Connor couldn’t stay.

Suddenly, Connor notices how something falls from his chin onto the pants of his Cyberlife uniform. The dark jeans turn even darker on the spot where it lands. He brings his hands up to his cheek.

He’s crying. The tears pouring out as if there was no stopping them.

Connor hasn’t cried that many times; the first time he ended up crying had been a few days after the revolution, when he was welcomed back to the force. Hank’s arm had been slung around his shoulder, and he remembers feeling so happy.

Because he got to remain an officer, even after everything the revolution. Because he got his own nameplate, with his name on it in a clear font. But mostly, because he got to stay by Hank’s side.

The tears that had spilled from his eyes back then had been happy tears. Hank had pulled him into a side-hug when he noticed the flooding on the android's cheeks, and Connor had flushed slightly blue at the action and the contact.

This doesn’t feel anything like that though; the happiness and excitement that he felt back then is now replaced by sorrow and anxiety. He was sobbing into the silence of the living room, each sob sounding painful and heartbroken.

He didn’t want to lose Hank. Whenever he thought about it, he cried harder. He didn’t want to leave him. Ever.

If Connor got to choose, he would always remain with Hank. In this reality, and whatever reality he might be reborn in. It would always be Hank.

As the sobs increase in intensity, Connor lies down on the couch and buries his head in his arm. He wishes he could feel Hank’s arms around him, caressing his body and running his fingers through his hair, his voice whispering sweet words in an attempt to calm him down.

Instead, he was lying here alone.

He cries until the sleep mode kicks in a while later. He doesn’t even remember putting it on, but he welcomes sleep with open arms.

\- x -

The sun is shining outside the window when Connor wakes up. He can hear the shower running from the bathroom, indicating that Hank is awake.

Sumo is lying in his dog bed next the couch, snoring loudly. Despite last night's thoughts and despite the tears that had dried into his artificial skin, Connor can feel himself smile down warmly at the Saint Bernard.

The door to the bathroom opens, and Connor hears Hank walk down the corridor to the living room. He feels almost anxious to catch Hank’s gaze, but he still turns his head around to search for Hank’s eyes. The older man looks over at him the moment he walks into the living room.

It looks like Hank barely has slept at all. According to the analysis that Connor does, Hank only got about three hours of sleep, which is much less than the amount of sleep that is recommended for males in his age. That might explain the dark circles around his eyes.

“G’morning,” Hank greets, before he turns his eyes away.

“Good morning, Hank,” Connor calls after him as the human makes his way over to the kitchen. He starts the coffee machine, and it beeps as it turns on. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yeah,” Hank replies, although he probably is aware of the fact that Connor already knows he's lying. The coffee starts pouring into his cup, steam rising from the warm liquid.

Connor moves to get out of the couch. His sleep mode must have gotten activated before he could change into the hoodie yesterday, since he’s still in the Cyberlife uniform, that he uses for everyday wear. He thinks that he should make sure to buy a new suit, maybe later this week, if he can get Hank to come along _(Hank had suggested to a few days ago after all)_ , as he moves into the kitchen.

Hank has sat himself down at one of the chairs at the kitchen table, his back to the living room. His eyes are looking down into the coffee, avoiding Connor’s gaze, as he walks around the table to stand on the other side from Hank, so he can look at him.

“Can I ask you a personal question, Hank?” Connor voices, closely watching the way Hank looks upon him.

“I’m too sober for this,” Hank mumbles. Connor feels his LED spin yellow against his forehead.

“Can I?”

A sigh from Hank. He looks up, and their eyes meet. “Fine, what do you want?”

“Why did you get so upset when I said that it would be fine if I was the next victim?” Connor watches as Hank’s eyes widen at the question. Hank takes a deep breath before sighing again, once more directing his eyes onto the wooden kitchen table.

“Who wouldn’t?” Hank replies, his thumb drawing circles on the warm mug. Connor feels his brows furrow.

“I don’t understand.”

“That’s because you’re oblivious,” Hank replies, before he goes quiet for a moment. Connor notices how Hank’s heartbeat is quickly picking up the pace. The look on Hank’s face is one of hesitation, as if he’s debating about whether or not he should speak his mind.

Connor is about to reply, to say that he’s  _ not  _ oblivious ( _Connor hates to admit it, but he’s loves their banter_ ) before he spots something in moving in the background. In the window of the living room.

It’s a figure. A human. Aiming a gun at Hank’s head.

Connor’s thirium runs cold.

“Get down!” Connor yells and moves over the table to Hank, to drag him down onto the floor, out of way of the bullet. Hank makes a surprised sound as he falls down from the chair and onto the cool kitchen floor. The warm coffee spills out of the mug, staining the floor.

Seconds later, the window in the living room breaks as a bullet passes through, landing in the wall in the kitchen. Sumo barks loudly, scared from the sound of the bullet flying through the home.

“He's outside!” Connor yells, and he hears how pieces of glass from the window falls down onto the floor in front of them. “I'll get him.”

“Connor, don't!” Hank begins, but the rest is lost, as Connor sprints out through the door.

He sees the suspect as he runs down the streets. Connor starts to follow, sprinting the fastest he can to keep up with him as he runs into smaller streets. It's like a maze, and despite running so hard, He can't keep up.

Connor comes to a stop on one of the smaller streets. He looks around, trying to see him, but to no avail.

“Fuck, kid, you alright?” Hank s voice suddenly voices behind him. His breathing is uneven, his gaze full of concern. “You always run so damn fast, an old man like me can't keep up.”

“I lost him,” Connor mumbles, the anxiety in his chest not letting up. How could he let someone whose out to kill Hank  _ get away _ , god _he's fucking useless._

He turns around to look at Hank once more. Connor’s eyes widen.

Over Hank’s shoulder, he can see the culprit clearly; his face is visible, and it only takes Connor one look to confirm that it is, indeed, the suspect Matt Williams.

He also notices the gun in his head, that’s pointed straight at them. He can feel his LED spin red.

Connor could analyze and see how the bullet would fly; it would cut through the air towards Hank, and hit his chest, right above his heart. It would go through his skin and get stuck in his flesh. There would be blood, lots of it, and the streets would quickly turn a shade of dark red.

The vitals tells Connor enough; Hank would die.

( _There’s a 97% chance of it_ )

Before Connor can make any more calculations, he can feel himself move. He can feel how the fright inside of him makes him move quicker. The fright is what makes him get to the spot in front of Hank in time, and he notices the bullet fly through the air before it hits him.

He expects it to hurt, and it does. But it doesn’t hurt more than the fear inside of him, the fear that’s making himself feel pain from his whole body. Human emotions are weird. They’re too strong.

Because Connor is scared to live without Hank. But he is also tremendously afraid to die.

Somewhere behind him, he can hear Hank yell out his name. Connor feels how his knees give out and he falls down onto the hard asphalt. There’s a hole in his chest, in the exact place where Hank would’ve been hit. Thankfully, Connor thirium pump isn’t in the same position as human’s hearts, so it doesn’t take any real damage.

But other vital bio-components do. His blue blood keeps leaking out from his mouth and the hole in his chest.

_ WARNING! Major injuries detected. Time until shutdown; 00:01:21 _

“Connor? Connor!” Hank yells, his hands taking a hold of Connor’s shoulders. It’s strange, but Connor can’t help but analyze his partner’s face, despite the fact that he’s about to shut down for good.

_(Rapid heartbeat, Sweating, Shaking; signs of panic)_.

“Don’t you fucking dare leave me, you hear me?” Hank’s voice is still loud and clear, but it also has a tone of desperation in it, as he looks Connor over. “Connor, please.”

“I’m sorry, Hank,” Connor finds himself saying, the clock slowly ticking down in front of his vision. 53 seconds to go. “But I think you’ll be better off without me.”

“ _ Fucking-  _ who the fuck told you that? I- don’t- don’t leave me alone, Connor,” Hank’s crying now, the tears slipping down his cheeks. Connor gets an impulse to reach his fingers up to wipe them away.

So he does.

Hank’s fingers curls around Connor’s own, but the tears doesn’t stop flowing. “I’ll find a way to fix you, Connor. You’ll be fine. This isn’t the end.”

_ Time until shutdown: 00:00:23 _

“I don’t know if you’ll be able to fix this, Lieutenant,” Connor voices, and he can hear the own tremor in his voice. It terrifies and calms him down at the same time. “I think it’s over now.”

What is there after death? Hank had mentioned something of an android heaven, a few weeks ago, before the revolution. Before Connor could feel. Would there be one? Or would there be nothing but emptiness waiting for him on the other side?

He hopes that he’ll be able to remember Hank. He hopes that he’ll have a chance of replaying their memories together, in whatever eternity he was slipping into. He hopes that he’ll still be able to feel the love he feels for the man, even if he can’t feel anything else.

Connor’s vision starts to get blurry, as they get closer to the shutdown. He can see Hank yelling something down at him, but he can’t hear him anymore. He can just see his mouth move and his face scrunch up as he cries. He takes a good look at him, trying to remember everything about him.

His lips, his eyes, his hair, his facial features. He tries to remember the feeling of his presence next to him, he tries to remember how it felt to sleep next to one another and how it felt to make Hank laugh from something stupid he said.

He feels happy. The pain is gone.

The countdown reaches zero, and he slips into nothingness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> am i sorry for ending this on a cliffhanger? not really
> 
> the next chapter should be up in a couple of weeks, at most. idk when i'll be able to post it, but it's in works!!
> 
> anyway i love detroit and i love hannor and i love bryan dechart and i love connor, the android sent by cyberlife.


	2. chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ,,,,hey you guys!! it's been,,,, *checks watch*,,,,,4 months,,,,  
> i'm sorry, but life and mental health issues kind of got in the way. things are calmer now though, which is why i'm FINALLY getting around with the second and final chapter. thank you all for your patience, and i hope you enjoy!

_**System: Initializing.** _

Bio-components: functional.

**LOADING** : ….85%.....91%.....97%....

**Start up, complete.**

 

When Connor opens his eyes, he’s greeted with grey walls and dim lights. 

He recognizes the place as New Jericho, located in one of Cyberlife's old buildings, and for a few moments, he can’t process how he ended up here. The last thing he remembers is that he and Hank were talking in the living room, before something interrupted them. Gunshots. Hank dying. The bullet going through his form, thirium sipping out of the holes in his body.

Tearful blue eyes. A voice that made him calm. Hank.

“Hank,” Connor finds himself saying into the empty room, his voice loud against the pale walls. Hearing his voice bounce back to him makes him uncomfortable, something about the emptiness feeling him with dread, before he feels something moving against his hand.

He finally notices the pressure on his hand. Not strong enough to hurt, but not loose enough to let their hands lose the grip. It’s warm and soothing, and Connor doesn’t need to look to know who it is. 

“Hank,” he says again, nudging at his sleeping friend, whose head is resting on the mattress, next to Connor’s chest. Although he knows that the position that Hank’s sleeping in - his lower part of the body seated on a wooden chair, his chest leaning against the bed - is undoubtedly going to make his back hurt, he can’t help but feel something warm inside of him at the scene. He brushes some strands of silver hair that’s resting on Hank’s cheek behind his ear. “Hank, wake up.”

Hank lets out a small noise at the back of his throat as he starts to stir. Connor lets his hands fall away from Hank’s hair, and watches as his partner rises his head to catch his gaze. 

A few seconds pass by in silence. Connor sends a small smile to Hank as he watches the familiar blue eyes widen in realization.

“Connor?” Hank asks, his voice husky from sleep. There’s confusion and disbelief in his voice, emotions that Connor wants to wash away.

“Hello, Lieutenant,” Connor greets back, and before he can even process Hank moving, his arms are around his frame, clutching onto him tightly. 

“Fuck,  _ Fuck, _ you’re alright,” Hank mumbles into the soft shirt Connor’s wearing, one he recognizes as Hank's. Connor’s arms come up to hold Hank as well, leaning into the tight embrace. “I thought you were gone, I thought they couldn’t save you,  _ fucking shit. _ ”

Connor can feel how his shirt gets slightly wet, and he realizes that Hank’s crying. He tightens his grip around him, leaning in to rest his head in the junction of Hank’s shoulder and neck. Hank’s sobs makes his whole body shake, and Connor rubs his back in circles, something that he has learned is a soothing motion. 

He doesn’t know how long it takes for Hank to calm down, and he can’t be bothered to care. Not when Hank’s warmth is spreading to him like this, not when he’s holding him close like this. 

“I thought you were gone,” Hank mumbles as he pulls away from the embrace. His hands doesn’t leave Connor’s form, resting softly around his waist. The warmth from his touch spreads around his whole body, and Connor just now realizes how much he had missed it. 

“I’m fine now, Hank,” Connor assures, sending a soft smile Hank’s way. His hands are holding onto Hank’s wrists, his thumb stroking circles into soft skin. “I’m fine.”

“Yeah, it's a  _ fucking miracle  _ alright,” Hank grumbles, his hold tightening. If Connor was human, it would be hard enough to bruise into his skin. “If it wasn’t for New Jericho and Markus, you wouldn’t have made it. Thank fuck, they had some fitting bio-components.”

Connor blinks. Processing. “How did you get me here?”

Hank sighs deeply, the hands that are now resting against the small of Connor’s back start moving soothingly up and down. Connor finds that he likes the sensation. “I took you here by car. I have blue blood all over my interior now, but it doesn’t matter. It was worth it.”

“I’m sorry,” Connor begins, already seeing that his LED is spinning yellow - it’s reflecting in Hank’s blue eyes. “I’ll pay for the wash-”

“Don’t,” Hank says, before he moves in for another embrace. Connor can feel his LED flicker back to blue as the Lieutenant pulls him close to him, resting his head upon his shoulder. “You’re alive. That’s all that matters.”

A warmth bloom in his chest, the same familiar warmth that always made itself known when he was around the Lieutenant. Connor closes his eyes, and takes in the feeling of Hank against him.

His trembling, but strong hands pressing against his back, holding him close. His steady breathing, the warm air hitting Connor’s neck. His big and strong body, soft around the edges, but so warm against Connor’s own.

A door is soon opened, and the sound echoes through-out the room. Connor is expecting Hank to pull away; but he doesn’t. Instead he just holds him tighter as the footsteps get closer.

“Ah, I see you’re awake,” Markus says, his mismatched eyes smiling warmly down to Connor. His lips is forming a well-knowing smile, and if it wasn’t for the situation at hand, the blue of thirium might’ve warmed up his cheeks. “Is everything alright?”

“Everything is operating accordingly,” Connor answers just as Hank pulls away. His hands leaves his frame completely now, moving to rest in Hank’s lap. Connor finds himself missing the warmth the moment Hank's big hands are gone. 

“I’m glad,” Markus says. “It wasn’t easy finding compatible components, but I’m glad our hard work was worth it.” 

Markus sends him a another smile before he turns to Hank. “Is it okay if I speak to Connor in private? Simon has bought some food for you. We figured you would be hungry after… this.”

Hank nods, slowly standing up. He grimaces a bit as he stands up, and Connor figures it’s because of the way he had fallen asleep. He should really talk to him about it later.

“Yeah, I could use something to eat,” Hank voices. It seems like he’s hesitating before he actually moves though, his gaze lingering on Connor. “I’ll be right back, Con.”

“Okay,” Connor says, and he watches as Hank moves towards the same door that Markus entered from. As soon as the door is closed behind him, Markus speaks up.

“He has stayed with you in here for the entire time you were out,” Mismatched eyes look down at him, a smirk slowly growing on his lips. “About three days. We almost had to force him to take breaks to eat.”

“Thank you for taking care of him,” Connor replies, watching as the smirk on Markus’ face slowly turns into a soft smile. 

“It’s the least we could do. We know how much he means to you, anyway,” Markus says before he sits down on the bed next to Connor’s legs. “He told us about what happened.”

Connor blinks, before nodding, moving his gaze away from Markus profile to look at his own clasped hands, resting in his lap. 

“I believe you did the right thing, Connor,” Markus continues, his gaze lingering on one of the cool walls. “Hank would’ve died if you hadn’t jumped in front of him.”

Markus turns around to look at him again; green and blue meeting warm brown.

“But he cares a lot about you. I can see it in everything he has done since he got here. If we hadn’t managed to fix you… to be crass, I don’t know if we would’ve been able to let him be alone.”

Connor takes in a deep breath, a breath he doesn’t really need, but his fan picks up in speed. He thinks that Markus will continue talking about it, but instead he sends him a friendly smile, before moving up to stand again. 

“You’re free to leave whenever now, Connor. The culprit has been caught and is in Detroit Police Department’s custody. We’re glad to have been of help and we’re glad to see that you are around someone who cares about you. Remember that you and Hank both will always have a place here at New Jericho.”

“Thank you, Markus,” Connor says as his friend moves towards the door. “For everything.”

A final smile and the door closes, leaving Connor alone in the cool room.

\- x -

An hour later, Connor and Hank are in the latter’s car, on the way back to the house on a small side street of Detroit. The ride is quiet, and nothing has been said aside from Connor once again apologizing for the thirium that now was staining the seats ( _although it was only visible to androids, it still filled him with guilt_ ). The silence is comfortable and not at all heavy, and there’s music playing on the car radio. 

It’s a song by Knights of The Black Death, released in 2034. It’s what Hank, a few weeks piror, had described as “head-bang” material, and although Connor doesn’t really know what it means just yet, he can’t help the smile that’s slowly making it’s way to his lips, as he thinks back upon the memory.

It doesn’t go unnoticed by Hank. “Whatcha smiling about?”

“You.”

His reply is followed by a sharp intake of breath from Hank, who tries his hardest to keep his eyes trained to the road. Connor can see how his body temperature is rising and how is BPM increases steadily. 

Hank doesn’t really reply per se - instead, he lets out a sound that could almost be described as a groan before he moves one of his hands away from the steering wheel to rest it on Connor’s thigh.

The touch isn’t heavy - it’s feather light, like Hank’s afraid he’s gonna push him away - but it’s enough to get something sparking in his wires. Connor moves one of his hands to rest over Hank’s, feeling his skin under his soft palm. 

The rest of the ride home is spent in silence, their hands never leaving the other.

\- x -

“Sumo!” Connor exclaims the moment Hank opens the door. 

The Saint Bernard, who had been sleeping in front of the television as usual, moves quickly when he hears the familiar voice. Before long, Connor has been knocked to the ground by the big dog, laughing while Sumo licks him all over his face.

“Sumo missed you,” Hank explains as he closes the door behind him, his voice warm with affection. “Me and him both.”

“I missed you both too,” Connor mumbles as he buries himself in Sumo’s soft fur. He still loves the sensation of it against his skin, just as he did the first time he had hugged the Saint Bernard close to himself. It feels so long ago now, although though he knew it had only been a bit more than a month ago.

A month since the revolution. A month since he became deviant and a month since he started staying at Hank’s place. Growing and finding himself with Hank next to him, by his side, forever there to help him. 

He remembers resting on the couch after long days at the precinct, Sumo resting by his feet and Hank’s warm body next to him as they watch basketball matches. He remembers walks in the park, the sun warm against his skin and the light making Hank glow even more than usual. He remembers wanting to press his lips against Hank’s whenever he caught him looking, when he thought he was being discreet. 

He remembers that he tried to remember every feautre of Hank’s as the timer was ticking down, as the rain fell down a few days ago. He remembers his life slipping away, just like that.

Something grows in his chest again, something hurting and heavy, and he hides his eyes into the soft brown fur as he feels the tear slip down his cheeks. Sumo, noticing the change in Connor’s mood, whines softly, gaining the attention from Hank, who had made himself busy with taking off his coat.

“Connor?” He asks, his voice full of concern and warmth. It makes the feeling inside of him deeper, and he fails to hide the sob that falls from his mouth. He feels Hank sit down on the ground next to him, his big, warm hand softly resting on his shoulder. “Hey, hey, what’s wrong?”

“I just realized,” Connor begins, trying to focus despite the way Hank’s hand rubs circles on his shoulder and back. “That I was a mere seconds away from dying. That I wouldn’t have gotten to see you or Sumo anymore.”

Connor think Hank’s going to say something, but he’s surprised to find that the Lieutenant doesn’t. Instead, his hand continues to move up and down in imperfect circles, almost urging Connor to continue.

So he does.

“I would’ve done it again though. I would do it all again if it means saving your life, Hank. But I was… so scared. Of forgetting you,” Connor peeks out from the fur, locking eyes with Hank. His blue eyes are slightly wider than usual, his face unreadable. “Of not being able to come home to this again. Of not being able to feel Sumo’s fur. But I guess, most of all, I was terrified of not being able to see you again. I know you believe yourself to not be worth much, but to me you’re worth everything. I actually realized it when I had the shut-down timer in front of my vision, and the fact that I wouldn’t be able to tell you hurt more than anything.”

That’s all it takes for Hank to take a hold of Connor, and move him away from the big dog to his own embrace. Connor, the state-of-art android, built with millions upon millions worth of resources, takes longer than usual to comprehend the situation. Hank’s arms are tight around his frame.

“I was terrified too, Con,” Hank speaks, so low it’s almost a whisper, his chin resting on Connor’s shoulder. His warm breath hits Connor’s brown hair, and he shivers. “I was terrified you wouldn’t be able to get better, to get fixed. I don’t know what I would’ve done.”

Connor sighs, contently, as he presses his cheek against Hank’s chest. The words tumble out of him accidentally. He’s surprised it’s so easy, after all. “I love you, Hank.”

Hank stills against him and tenses. Connor doesn’t get enough time for him to start worrying in case he had said a bit too much after all, as Hank’s hold soon tightens. The deep, warm laugh that Connor loves so much is all around him, he can feel Hank vibrate from underneath his cheek. “I love you too, Connor.”

A beat. And then a gasp, and Connor who pushes himself out of the embrace to meet Hank’s eyes. “I love you in a lot of ways, Hank. But I hope I managed to convey that I meant that in a romantic way.”

Hank laughs again and his lips widen into a grin. He moves one of his hands up to flick Connor over the forehead. “In case it wasn’t clear to you, I meant it in a romantic way as well.”

“Good,” Is all Connor says as he moves in to rest against Hank’s chest again, not even trying to hide the wide smile on his lips.

“But seriously, Con, don’t do that again,” Hank starts, and before Connor can protest, Hank continues. “Your life matters just as much as mine, alright? Don’t try to throw it away so recklessly. You were lucky this time, real lucky. I don’t want you to throw your life away for me.”

“But you matter a lot to me, Hank!” Connor tries, moving to wrap his arms around Hank.

“You matter a lot to me too, Connor. And that’s the thing,” Hank hands have started to rub circles into the skin at Connor’s hip once more, something that he seems to do absentmindedly. “You’re your own person, worth just as much as you think I am. Just because you’re an android doesn’t mean you can always be fixed, and especially not now when Cyberlife’s gone to shit. You matter to me, you matter to Sumo and you matter to your friends. Everyone of us would be devastated if we had lost you. I for sure don’t know what I would’ve done if I lost you. I know you tend not to listen to me, Con, as frustrating as it is, but please listen to this.”

“Okay, I’ll do my best not to get in trouble,” Connor says softly as he cuddles closer into Hank’s embrace. Hank laughs and presses a kiss to the top of his hair.

“Do my best not to get in trouble, he says,” Hank grumbles, but there’s no heat to it. It’s warm, affectionate, and Connor feels safer than ever before. “I bet you’re going to be making up trouble the day you get back to the precinct.”

Connor can feel his LED go yellow. “I have to wait before going back to the precinct,don't I?”

“Yup, it’s routine. You also need to talk to a shrink, as do I,” Hank voices, and Connor manages a small nod.

“I think it will be beneficial for both of us,” Connor mumbles into his chest, and he feels more than hear the hum Hank gives in agreement.

They fall in a small silence after that. It’s comfortable and warm, and they stand calmly in the embrace, listening to cars driving by in the distance and the sound of Sumo’s paws as he walks over to lie down in front of the couch. Connor spends the silence looking around their home, taking in how much he loves this place. 

Taking in how much he loves what his life has turned into. 

“You fixed the window,” Connor voices suddenly, his eyes catching onto the piece of glass that had been broken with a bullet just a few days ago. Hank’s head leaves the junction between Connor’s neck and shoulder, where it had been resting, to look over as well.

“Oh, yeah, Simon did it,” Hank says, his lips pulled up into a small smile. “He took care of Sumo when I stayed with you. He told me he had fixed the window while he was at it as well.”

“Hm,” Connor hums. “We need to pay him back. Marcus too.”

“I don’t think I can ever pay them back for making sure that you’re still here with me,” Hank says softly, his blue eyes catching the familiar dark-brown ones. “I was so afraid I wouldn’t be able to tell you how much you mean to me. Thank  _ fuck  _ for Robo-Jesus.”

Instead of replying - because he can’t. Despite social interaction protocols, Connor can’t find the words to say - he leans forward to press his lips against Hank’s. They’re warm and soft, and they move lazily against each other for a few moments before they pull away. 

They don’t separate by much - Connor can still feel Hank’s hot breath hit him in puffs on his lips. Hank’s lips is formed in a wide grin, and Connor is quite sure he has a replica of it on his own face. 

“I liked that,” Connor starts, moving forward to press another peck to the corner of Hank’s smiling mouth. “I like kissing you.”

Hank chuckles, before leaning in again, eyes dark and pupils dilated. “I like kissing you too, you dork. I’ve been wanting this for so fucking long.”

Connor grins into the kiss, pressing himself closer to Hank’s warm body. And as their hands start grabbing at each other’s clothes and their footsteps lead down to the bedroom down the hall, Connor thinks that he’s truly glad to be alive. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and there we go!  
> honestly, i was struggling a bit with this chapter. i wanted it to be longer, but oh well. i hope you enjoyed it nevertheless!!
> 
> and i'm still in hankcon heaven, despite it having been like 6 months since i played the game? these two do things to my heart, i love them so much.  
> thank you for reading! and i hope you'll have a good day!
> 
> you can find me on [twitter](http://twitter.com/jeonghooons)


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